Pas De Deux

Diablo,
The fuckery with you is so real. I was going to call my friend, my best friend mind you, to put us up and get us drinks and smoke and poppers for you and into a club out there. Dinner, gas, breakfast was all on me. Since we’re not locals, if anything went down, fuck it, we’d never have to see anybody again. I finished myself off to those nasty thoughts of you choking on a dick if I’m honest. Probably the best worst idea you’ve ever shared with me. I’ve got to stop letting you get me like this. Whatever sick, stupid, silly thing that you want, I go crazy trying to get it for you. And I don’t care who I ruin to do it. I should be ashamed of it but I’m not. You’re bad for me, Diablo. If I could, if you would, I’d jump in the car and hit the highway with you right now.
Your hesitation, your excuses, even after your idea was presented, are all quite helpful honestly. People like me need to be stopped in their tracks. You have too much influence over me. Sad, really, if anything. I should be ashamed of it but I’m not. I’ll pass your damn test next time.
Plus, Diablo, it’s cuffing season. There are five really nice, age appropriate guys in my phone, a couple with deep pockets, who WANT to spend at least the next four cold months experimenting with my brand of happiness. They want only me. And what do I do? Try and figure out how to make adventures in dick sucking happen for you instead. I should be ashamed of it but I’m not. How pathetic is that though? I wish I didn’t love you, Diablo. I jump at any chance to make you happy. Apparently I’m your slave. This blows. You nearly had me again. The fuckery with you is so real. I’ll pass your damn test next time.
Luckily, you being so passive aggressive (which is the ultimate turn off for me, BTW) gave me enough time to think. And drink. And think some more. As much as I don’t want to say this at all, Diablo, no. Get your girlfriend to handcuff you and force you to suck the life out of some guy’s junk, why don’t ya? I’ve got to stop appeasing you before I get in even further over my head because I’m confident I’m drowning at the moment. So, NO. I was supposed to say, when you suggested it, that you should shut the fuck up. You told me to say that in response to you but I can’t very easily or I wouldn’t still think of you when I kiss anyone else. Telling you I don’t or I won’t is too fucking hard. So understand that I would, and I could, but I need to take a little control back of this shit. They want only me and you just want to see where my hard limits are. I should be ashamed of it but I’m not. But you were right, Diablo, you were right. People like me need to be stopped in their tracks. It’s exactly what I should have said to your ass when you suggested it. I should have said, shut the fuck up. The fuckery with you is so real.
I’ll pass your damn test next time.
I’ll pass your damn test next time.
There will be a next time, right?

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Queen Rude

Poet and Author originally from Indianapolis, Indiana, lover of words, expressions and creativity. Mother of one, Member of the Ohio Poetry Association, former member of the California Writers Club, Winner of the Barry Wright Scholarship for Poetry and consummate Dorothy Parker, Nikki Giovanni and Pablo Neruda fangirl.
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